He looked around a moment, taking in his surroundings. The sun was rising, still low enough to hide behind the city’s walls. There was an inn not far away, Prather’s if he read the sign right, and that meant he was on…Crimson Alley, deep in southern Veldaren. He felt muted horror at the realization. Senke and Delysia lived on the Crimson, one of the most dangerous places in the city? No wonder he never saw either of them when he patrolled the night. They’d certainly keep their doors locked and windows bolted. How often had he passed right on by when scouring for isolated members of the guilds?
He worried about his injuries, but those desperate enough to rob in daylight he could certainly handle. Giving one last glance at the dilapidated building to memorize its location, Haern rushed north, eager to put some distance between him and his sudden assault from the past.
*
V eliana floated in silence, and that alone convinced her she was dead. She didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed. All she saw was darkness, though she didn’t really see it as much as be swallowed by it. The numbness she felt she likened to cold, so at least she felt something, however faint. Time drifted by as if it were bored of her. Then came a sudden, shocking pain to her chest. It lit up her darkness with streaks of red. Again she felt the pain, but this time there was a comfort to it, a strange familiarity. The third time it hit, she realized it was her heartbeat restarting.
Pins and needles came in waves, first to her chest, then her face, and last her extremities. The darkness gradually faded from black, to yellow, to red, and at last to an assortment of colors that congealed together to create the unmasked face of Deathmask.
“Welcome back,” he said with a smile.
She would have hit him if her limbs bothered to listen to her commands.
He vanished. She lay on her back, and now she stared at a cobwebbed ceiling. Based on the cold she felt, she decided she was on a dirt floor. Her ears, about the only thing working properly, heard shuffling, followed by a laugh.
“I’m sure you’re angry with me, but let me assure you, I hope I never have to do that again.” Deathmask leaned over, and she felt him press his hands against her neck. “Pulse is getting stronger. Good. Never actually tried that spell before, so consider yourself a lucky first try. Stopping someone’s heart is never easy. Well, not if you want to start it again.”
“What…happened?” she forced her dry throat and swollen tongue to ask.
“I faked killing you. The thrust to your chest wasn’t deep enough, but I made sure no one bothered to investigate the matter. With your heart stopped, and your body in stasis, there wasn’t much reason to think otherwise. I took over the burial, and here we are. Simple enough explanation, and once you get your bearings, I think you’ll be pleased with its elegance.”
The pins and needles returned throughout her body, and this time she felt herself regaining control. Her head pounded with the unholiest of headaches, but she forced herself to sit up, forced the memories to come back. She’d been in their headquarters, Garrick was there, accusing her of…
She reached for a dagger at her side but all she did was topple herself back to the dirt.
“Don’t rush things,” she heard Deathmask say. “You’ll be fine in a few more minutes. We have much to discuss, so try not to do anything stupid like killing me, all right?”
No promises, she thought amid her delirium.
As her body reawakened, so did her mind. She glanced about, taking in her surroundings. They appeared to be in a cellar of some sort, the only light coming from a single torch lit behind her head. She saw no door but assumed it was also behind her. Deathmask leaned against a stone wall to her right, his arms crossed, his face blanketed with a smug grin she’d give everything to cut off. Feeling far better, she sat up, braced herself for the ensuing dizziness, and then sat on her knees.
“I’m fine now,” she told him. “You say we have lots to talk about, so let’s talk.”
He nodded, as if perfectly fine to hurry through the bullshit.
“Garrick surprised me with his boldness. I’d feel more upset if he didn’t surprise you as well, and you’ve known him far longer than I. Even a rigged die will roll something new with enough throws, if you know what I mean. I tried to save us both, but clearly Garrick wasn’t one to be persuaded. He wanted you dead, and I did my best to fool him regarding that. I succeeded, of that I’m sure. My position in the guild is tenuous right now, esteemed in most of the lower members that despised you, but Garrick wants me killed, that much is obvious. And now here we are. It’s only been a day, and I managed to keep you wrapped and safe so no bugs or worms could get at you.”
Veliana shuddered at the prospect.
“So here we are,” she said. “What is it you want? Why keep me alive?”
“Because I made you an offer, and I won’t let some idiot guildmaster interfere with my plans. That offer still stands, though I need your answer now. Will you aid me, or must I find another?”
“And if I say no?”
His eyes held no joy, no amusement, only grim truth.
“I’ll put you as you were, though this time no spell will bring you back.”
She thought of the cold, the darkness. An involuntary shudder coursed through her, too strong to hide. She couldn’t go back to that, even if it wasn’t a true death. Garrick had turned against her, and even now she would be a outsider, a banished ghost from her own guild.
“I’ll help you,” she said. “Even if I did have a choice, I’d still help you. I want that son of a bitch to die, slowly, painfully, and at my hand. That is all I ask. Can you promise me that?”
Deathmask handed her a small bottle of some red vintage. She tore out the cork and drank.
“That, my dear,” he said, “is something I can assure you of. He’ll be your kill, all yours.”
The alcohol burned going down, but damn did it feel good.
“Then enough lies and games. I can hardly turn against you, now that I’ve been ‘executed’ by the Ash Guild. What is your plan? Why have you come to Veldaren?”
Deathmask smoothed his robe and then sat opposite her on the floor. He scratched at his chin, as if thinking where to start.
“I was once a member of the Council of Mages,” he said. “Less than six months ago, in fact. They preach non-involvement in political matters, but it’s nonsense. We had our eyes everywhere, especially on the kings and their capitals. When this war erupted between the guilds and the Trifect, I was assigned to watch. Through coin and magic, I learned of every guildleader, their goals, and the reaches of their power. As the years dragged on, and my boredom grew, I formulated various plans and contingencies. I was not a high ranking member, Veliana; far from it. My strength was equal to many, but my years were few. Not enough gray hairs, if you will. I also had a reputation as a…troublemaker.”
“Shocking,” Veliana muttered. He chuckled and continued.
“They told me nothing of why I was tracking Veldaren’s underworld, so left to my imagination, I thought of every possible reason. Recently I came up with a plan I was sure could work. It wasn’t foolproof, and would involve risk to whoever tried carrying it out, but I was certain of its worth. This stupid grudge war wasn’t going to end, not without killing off Thren Felhorn, and I knew a way. When I tried to convince the Council of this, they gave me strict orders not to interfere. I saw a wealth of gold, but gold means nothing to those aging bastards. They want influence, power, and information. Gold helped with that, but was hardly their true ambition.